


Wrath of Wanheda

by Shipper101



Series: Shadow of Wanheda [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 3x07 Hurt, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Insanity, Other, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 06:27:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6318274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shipper101/pseuds/Shipper101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The War continues. When she is finished everyone will regret the fact that they started fighting it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Agression

They left them alone most of the time. They could almost always see them, moving through the trees. They waited and waited for the attack. Octavia waited in their cells of Clarke to finally, but inevitably, fail in her fight. To lose to the new commander. To surrender to the inevitability that the Skaikru deserved death. But the weeks drew on, into months. The spring rains fell, coming and going, and still nothing. People started to starve. Bellamy grew desperate. Pike grew desperate. 

Their first act was to dispose of the grounder prisoners. One by one they were dragged from their cell. They were pale already, sick and emaciated from their confinement and hunger. Those that could knelt, doing their best to support those that could not. The light rain spat down from the sky, clanging off the cold, dull steel of Arkadia. Pattering into the thick mud of the courtyard. Behind each of the grounders, a guard walked up, face steeled, and rifle raised. Pike stood before the assembled gathering, Bellamy at his side, face paled at the thought of what was to come. Nodding to the uniformed men and women, they fired. 

Lincoln fell last, blood frothing from his mouth as he gurgled his last breath away. Hannah Green smirked at his falling form, rifle clasped in her grasp. Bellamy schooled his features, shooting the smirking woman a poisonous glare even as he moved forwards, scooping up Lincoln's body. Heart heavy in his chest, he bore the light of his sister's life to her even as she rotted in a cell of his own making. Her screams, blazing in anguish into the empty sky, kept the camp awake that night. 

The following day, Kane and Sinclair were dragged from their own cell. They were brought without the Chancellor's study and forced to their knees, a pair of guards standing at each of their sides. When Pike emerged, he was flanked by a flustered Bellamy and a raging Hannah Green, who were glaring daggers at one another.

'Sinclair. With the authority of the Chancellorship of Arkadia, you are pardoned for your crimes. You will return to engineering, and you will do your utmost to ensure the survival of our people, in the knowledge that if you ever attempt to pursue any other goal, both you and your entire staff will be put to death.'

The guard holding Sinclair bent down and sliced the ties holding his hands clean off. Looking over at Kane, he waited for Kane's slight, imperceptible nod, before rising to his feet, and walking away from the room. Now, Pike brought his attention to Kane. Hannah was smiling to his side, while Bellamy was looking uncomfortably down at his toes.

'Marcus Kane. You shall be taken from this place and, with Octavia Blake beside you, you shall both be put to death, as is the sentence for Treason. If, however, you tell me why Ms Blake returned alone, I shall commute her sentence, and her life will be spared.'

Kane saw Bellamy stare, dumbstruck at Pike for this, with his expression being mirrored by Hannah Green. He smiled, a small, sad half smile. What the hell.

'She came to give us the information that Commander Lexa has been killed, and that a new Commander will be chosen from among the Clans.'

He saw all three of them smile. Pike and Hannah were the large, short-sighted smiles of self assurance, while Bellamy's was the smaller smile. A more personal victory for him then.

Pike raised his hand, and the two guards bent over to take Kane away. He rose before that became necessary, and walked away with them, freely, with his head held high.

Kane fell the following day. Only this time it was Pike himself who fired the killing shot. The day was dry and cloudless, and the gunshot echoed across the fields, as bouncing from side to side, clashing, destroying, raising and amplifying. An echo to be heard by the gods themselves, if they could be bothered to hear yet another death. For now people were dying. Pike knew that the blockade had to be ended soon. Bellamy knew that it had to end soon. And now, they both knew, there was only one way to end it.

\---

 

The riders came at dawn on the fifty sixth day of the Blockade. Seven days after Kane was struck down in the middle of the camp he had fought so hard to protect. Forty two days after the camp had run out of rations. They were five in number, and they rode straight up to the gates. They were greeted by Pike, Hannah and Bellamy. The people of the camp had taken to seeing them together. 

'We have a message for the Skaikru. Wanheda sends her regards. She wishes that it be known. If you surrender the man known as Pike, and open your gates, only some of you will die. If, in five days, you do not accept these terms, they will be the last terms Skaikru ever receives.' 

Bellamy snarled, and stepped forwards, despite Pike attempting to hold him under control.

'Wanheda sends you? Who is Clarke to decide what we do? Or who leads us? Unless another of you savages have claimed the title for yourself.'

The riders gave no answer, merely turning and leaving. 

\---

The next day the riders arrived at noon, and numbered only four. This time, they were met by nobody. So instead, they simply delivered their message to the guard post.

'We have a message for the Skaikru. Wanheda sends her regards. She wishes that it be known. If you surrender the man known as Pike, and Octavia, seken kom Indra , and open your gates, only some of you will die. If, in four days, you do not accept these terms, they will be the last terms Skaikru ever receives.'

They are greeted by a decisive silence. After a minute they turn around and ride away, as they had the day before.

\---

The day after that three arrived, and they rode with the afternoon sun on their heels. Instead of being open faced, they all now wore skull masks, a small wooden triskellion worked into the forehead. This time they were greeted by a small crowd, as the guards had opened up the gates to allow the late sun into the camp. The looked at the emaciated men, women and children that gathered around them, their emotions shrouded by their masks, before delivering their message.

'We have a message for the Skaikru. Wanheda sends her regards. She wishes that it be known. If you surrender the man known as Pike, and open your gates, only most of you will die. If, in three days, you do not accept these terms, they will be the last terms Skaikru ever receives.' 

Gasps of shock and fear emerged from the crowd, but then a wedge of guards, led by Bellamy, forced their way through the crowd. He glared at the messenger, and flipped the catch for his pistol. One of the Riders turned at once, and rode away, while the other two simply stayed where they were, looking down at Bellamy. Whipping his pistol up, he fired twice, ending the two men crashing to the ground as their horses collapsed beneath them. The guards shot the men.

'Horsemeat on the menu tonight.' was all Bellamy said, as he angrily reholstered his gun and walked back to the Chancellor's office.

\---

The next day, only a single man arrived. He was clad in a blood red skull mask, and an intricate network of bones was laced across his chest. When he cantered up to the gateway, it was the dead of night. He was greeted by Bellamy, who held his sister in one hand, and his pistol in the other.

'Here is Octavia, seken kom Indra. Take her. But take a message to Clarke. We are coming for her.'

The man slipped from his horse and scooped Octavia- a tiny wrap of skin and bones- up in his arms, before remounting, and riding away. Bellamy looked after him, the wind whipping through his hair, his part in Pike's plan done.

\---

The camp was silent and lifeless. A couple of camp-fires still smouldered, oxegenated by the stiff breeze. Through the shadows at the outskirts crept a string of people. There were some eighteen in all, each clutching one of the rare rifles to their chests. They were the only ones that yet had strength to carry one- all of the other guards had wasted away so far that fight was impossible for them. They had counted their rounds. Spreading out around the camp, they raised their weapons, and pulled the triggers. With thunderous cracks light flashed from the end of a score of barrels, and the tent pelts were torn apart, the fires scattered. Firewood and cooking utensils, tables and tents, all were blasted into the air and scattered, as the sky people unleashed months worth of pent up rage. 

As the echoes died away, however, instead of the cries of the wounded, or the last gasps of the dying, they heard something strange. The camp was silent, dead as the night through which the had trekked, but around them, to windward, came a sizzling, cracking, hissing noise. Slowly, a white fog began to appear, floating through the dark, carried in trails and rivulets upon the wind. Dropping heir magazines and slotting another into place with practised ease, the sky people began to fire again, seeking to kill or maim their invisible aggressors through the banking fog. A select few of the more aware ones thought to cover their eyes and mouths, dropping to the floor as the fog reached them, but for the rest, the screams began as they were smothered in fog. 

Clutching at their eyes, they roared in agony as the thin powder dissolved, screaming as it ate away at the sockets and the orbs themselves. Within minutes, all gunfire had fallen silent, with a select few holding themselves to the ground, covering their own, vulnerable portals, even as their companions dropped their now worthless weapons, seeking in vain to reclaim the sense now lost to them forever, stolen by the cursed embrace of quicklime. Those on the ground were almost relieved when the bulky warriors arrived, dragging them to their feet, that they could be led away with their newly blunted companions.


	2. Vengeance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jus Drein, Jus Daun

The first Bellamy knows of the guards that had gone to break the blockade is when he sees them, walking back. They are all nude from their waist up, with their torso coloured bright crimson in the midday sun. Shouting out, the other guards around him did their best to rush to their posts. On scrawny legs they hurried, attempting to drag their thin fleshed bodies where they needed to be. Camp Jaha was bare. It had already been striped to its bones in the desperate rush to source food. People had eaten grass, roots, bugs. Anything that seemed to provide more food than the nothingness that clenched at their bellies. The horses had barely been roasted when they had been stripped, not a single ounce of meat left on their bones, which even now were being picked over, as if by the vultures themselves. A sore sight to return to, for a decidedly ragged train of men. 

Bellamy almost gasped when he saw the state of them. Every single one of them had a triskellion carved into their chest, it's nexus positioned directly over their hearts. The blood oozed from the still fresh wounds, and the gathering flies suggested they hadn't been cleaned in a while. They were all manacled together, in three long trains of people. Bellamy saw why. All but three of them had raw, agonising blisters and milky white eyes, as if they had faced the acid fog, but their eyes alone had been scorched. At the front of the foremost chain stood Hannah Green, eyes blazing with fury. However, below that fury, he saw true agony. Looking at her hands, he saw why.

\---

'They cut off their thumbs.' 

Bellamy was angry. He was frothing at the mouth. The men that had gone to attack the blockade were his friends. He and Hannah had selected them specifically for the task. Most of them had families, as they were the ones most willing to do anything to help their loved ones. And now, the savages had returned them, crippled and useless. Either sightless or incapable of using a weapon. Pike, at least, was reacting in the same way. 

'How did they know we were coming? We moved before they had finished offering their terms. Someone had to have betrayed us.'

'They probably just expected us sir. Besides, we found out something else. The Blake bitch lied.'

Bellamy rounded on Hannah, opening his mouth to speak, before stopping abruptly.

'Octavia lied? About what?'

'Their commander isn't dead. But Griffin is. Apparently one of her advisor's took a shot at the commander and Griffin saved her life at the cost of her own.'

Bellamy fell backwards, the wind knocked out of him. Clarke was dead. Clarke Griffin, who had done so much, had died to save a treacherous Grounder bitch. Hannah smirked at him, and he reared, snarling at her. She dropped back, shocked at his response.

'Whatever my feelings about her choice of companions towards the end of her life, we all owe Clarke more than you could imagine, Hannah. Without her, I wouldn't be here. Monty wouldn't be here. The 100 would have been slaughtered and the Ark would have been annihilated shortly afterwards. She saved all of our lives so many times. We owe her at least our respect. She did a darn sight more than you could ever hope to achieve, so BACK OFF!'

Turning violently, Bellamy stormed out of the room, leaving a flustered and annoyed Hannah and an amused Pike in his wake.

\---

Clarke's memorial was held that night. The remaining delinquents gathered around the bonfire in the centre of the camp. They spoke, passing memories and comments. Some of the older ones told Clarke's story to the younger Arkers. Even some of the adults gathered in to pay their respects. Only two of the 100 didn't pay their respects. Jasper and Raven were nowhere to be found. Suspicious, Pike ordered a search of Arkadia, only to find that Jaha, Raven, Jasper, Jackson and about forty other people had vanished. After doing a full sweep of the camp, they found that they had stolen most of the remaining medical supplies, and a good number of Arkadia's remaining guns. Despite all but tearing the camp apart looking for their route out, it was nowhere to be found. Frustrated, Pike only called off the search as the sun began to rise on the following day.

It was on that day that the first person began to throw up blood. Acting quickly, at Bellamy's advice, Abby ordered the team that had gone to attack the blockade to be confined to medical. However, they had been allowed out for too long. Soon, dozens more began throwing up blood. The immune delinquents worked as fast as they could, but the people were too weak with hunger, and were living too close together. More and more people fell victim. After about half a week of trying, almost all died. People desperately tried to escape from the infected camp, but the sickness was rarely far behind them, and, if that proved frustratingly inoffensive, the blade of a Trikru warrior got the job done.

When Harper and Miller were caught trying to escape, it was a small scandal. Pike was furious. He had brought them both into his highest level of planning, and then had found them attempting to escape through a secret exit behind one of the door panels. Carrying the bound and gagged form of Bryan, no less. Upon his return to the cold, hard, festering world of the living, Bryan's response was as outraged as could be managed through heavy sickness and starvation. Raging at his former love, he abandoned both of them to their fates. Pike threw them both into the cells in disgust.

\---

By the time the sickness ran its course, in just over two weeks, almost four hundred people lay dead, Bryan among them, with just under a hundred more having escaped the walls of the camp. Their bodies were burned- no one had the energy, or the space, for graves. A shroud of mute sadness lay over the camp. However, for the first time in months, it was interspersed with a little bit of hope. The harvest time had just come in, and with the population more than halved by the pestilence, people were finally able to eat, if not well, then sufficiently. However, it was in the cells, with the two prisoners that the most hope could be found. 

Miller and Harper had barely benefited from the new harvest. Their skin still stuck to their bones, and their eyes were sunk deep in their sockets. Harper's hair, always golden and lustrous, now seemed brittle and thin. Then, a figure appeared between them. It was short, about the same height as Harper, and translucent at best. It seemed to swirl and shuffle, condensing, dividing and reforming in thin air before them. It was clad in a dark cloak over a blue jacket, but the mane of blonde hair they would recognise anywhere. 

'Clarke?'

The figure turned to look at the two delinquents sat before it. It was Clarke, but at the same time, it was not. It's face flashed between itself and a skull.

'Clarke died to save Head. I am here to save the Commander we both loved. I am Wanheda. I need your help'

Miller and Harper just looked at the figure, jaws slack, nodding gently.

Wanheda smiled at their response. They would be ideal.

'Excellent. Welcome to my service'

Harper and Miller both hissed in pain, pulling back their shirts to reveal a black Triskellion appearing on their shoulders

'In two days, the Armies of the 12 Clans will descend upon Arkadia. I need you to ensure that Hannah Green and Bellamy Blake are secured alive. If any warrior attempts to stop you, show them that and they shall allow you to pass.'

The two delinquents nodded slowly at the spectre, who smiled. 

'May we meet again'

\---

When the armies came, they came as one. Within the belly of Arkadia, the generators fizzled out as one, before tearing themselves apart in clouds of sparks, leaving the gates stuck wide open. Even as guards ran to investigate, the drums began to sound, loud in the distance. Thumping again and again, the guards waited, weapons readied and aimed at the tree line, which seemed to come alive with activity. Yet nothing moved out. On and on the drums clashed, thundering over the distance. Even the experienced, trained guards began to fire at the trees, hoping to hit something. Anything. Anything to stop the constant thundering. As dusk began to fall, the drums continued on and on, the echoes thundering over the valley. As the sun touched the horizon, straight in the eyes of the guards at the gates, the open field became a living, barking sea. Guards formed up at the gateway, firing indiscriminately into the moving sea of canines, even as the other guards hurried to get the citizens inside. Then the sea broke upon the shore, and all was carnage. Falling upon the line of guards, the dogs tore them apart, before breaking up and attacking everything they could find.

Within the cell wing, the two prisoners knew just what was expected of them. Harper grabbed the guard, pulling him against the bars, while Miller grasped him around the neck. He held on, his grip like a vice, until the guard stopped moving. Harper fished around his belt, finding the key, and twisting it in the lock, they extricated themselves. Miller went after Hannah, while Harper sought Bellamy. She found him in the Chancellor's office, talking to Pike. Putting a bullet into Pike's kneecap, Harper gestured Bellamy to the floor.

'Harper, what are you doing?'

'The savages out there will kill every last one of us.'

Harper smiled. She really hoped that whatever Clarke, or Wanheda, whatever, had planned for Bellamy was extremely painful. Hitting him in the back of the head with her pistol, the world went black around him, as he pitched forward to lie drooling on the cool, smooth floor.

**Author's Note:**

> Yep, and brutality! Seriously though, this is the deserved fate of everyone who supports Pike in this series (BELLAMY ESPECIALLY)!!


End file.
